Melodrama At Its Finest
by Achicagoil
Summary: Anni finds herself held hostage by the Weasleys and the 'Idiot-Who-Lived', while trying to convince them that she is, indeed, safe in contacting the Vampyre cults. No action yet, folks. That comes next chapter
1. 1 And in the Meantime

Disclaimer: Not owning Harry Potter. Sadly, Ms. Rowling, who is richer than the QUEEN, has those claims. You think I could buy Draco off of her? And if not, you think I could buy Tom Felton as a personal slave?

-Achicagoil, or Kim, who is rather contemplative at the moment

NOTE: Excuse any mistakes. I have no beta. I don't particularly WANT a beta at the moment. 

Melodrama At Its Finest

rated: PG-13 methinks

Prologue and Chapter One

Prologue: At the Funeral

Many people would stop to stare at me when I told them, "Yeah, I'm her little sister." It went to show me how much she DID talk about her family. That might have even been the reason Mum and Dad shipped me off to Salem's instead of Hogwarts. Not that they WANTED to have another witch in the family. They weren't dumb. 

She, on the other hand... 'The brightest witch in a century,' was mentioned a lot in her eulogies. Book smarts, yeah, I agree. But when your world's at war and you happen to be a best friend with the number one target for the enemies... That's something you keep quiet from your parental units. 

Maybe that's why she was considered the 'good child.' Because she was not only smart, she told them things. Like, "Oh, yeah, our world's at war," and "You remember that guy, Harry? They're out to get him. Isn't that fun?" or even, "They're putting me into a Safe House. Don't worry." Hell. You even got a "My Bulgarian, pro-Quidditch, ex-boyfriend, now pen-pal's evil! Can you believe that?" 

I'll miss her. Don't get me wrong. I cried a lot when I heard she was dead. I cried a lot before, during, and after the funeral. I was the walking Niagara Falls of Europe. But I was shocked, more than anything, when I think about it. It's just... You walk into the dorm room you share with ten other girls your age and BAM! "Anni, it's your sister. She's been murdered under You-Know-Who's orders. They found her body in that town outside of Hogwarts. Apparently, she saved at least seven lives or something..."

One moment, she's there, nagging you about how 'Pluto does NOT have small colonies of little green men populating themselves on the moon Miranda (Which is ACTUALLY a Jupiter moon, you moron), so would you please change this in your essay? No, I don't care that you needed those extra few inches on the parchment and NO, it would NOT be any better if you just changed 'Miranda' to 'Charon'. Honestly, you **_slacker_**...' and the next minute, she's in an oversized pencil case. 

People kept on saying how 'She left us bravely.' She didn't _leave_. If you leave, you can always come back. Like with moving. You don't know how much I just wanted to scream out, "She's NOT gone! She's DEAD! Dead and cold and soon to be decomposing in a SHOE-BOX!" Wasn't anger part of the Recovery-Steps that they've been mentioning? I truthfully wouldn't know. 

But I nearly did scream that out.

I surprised people at the funeral. I suppose not even her teachers knew about "the little sister". Her friends didn't. I know that much. I would have laughed at their reactions when "Antigone Granger and two other young ladies from Salem's Witching Academy have arranged a song for the passing of her elder sister," was announced. You know. If it weren't the funeral of my only sibling. 

Singing was the only thing I had held over Mia. 

The funeral seems blurred to me. All those people, all giving us their best wishes or telling us how amazing Mia had been. The odd looks I had gotten from people who had known Mia and hadn't known about me. The things said about Mia, all repeating the others with synonyms. None of these people had known her!

After the funeral, however. I remember that memory as clear as the early July day it had been held. I had been standing in front of the tombstone I had helped design. I had spent all waking hours for a week, searching for a saying, a paragraph... ANYTHING from the texts, the tomes, and the novels she had in her room, when I had found what I was looking for out of a book of poetry. When designed, I knew the stone would be expensive. I had a lot of engraving I wanted on it. But it hadn't mattered. On the front was a poem. On the back was the first line of "Amazing Grace" in music staff. 

"She walks in Beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:  
Thus mellowed to that tender light  
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

By Lord Byron, from 'She Walks in Beauty,' isn't it?" a cold voice had asked from behind me. It had been the man I recognized as her potions master. 

I had nodded and he had sighed. "I'm going to hate myself for admitting to this, but your sister was the most brilliant witch I ever taught. She would have made a brilliant potions mistress. Or a brilliant transfigurations mistress. Or pretty much brilliant at any subject she was to tackle..."

"Runes," I had interrupted. "She was going to go to La Fayette in the fall to gain a masters in Ancient Runes." I had mentioned a high-class wizarding and witching college outside of New Orleans in the United States. I was familiar with the school, it being the sister-school to Salem's. 

He had been making me angry. I remember feeling anger at his raised eyebrow and nonchalant expression. "Jealous?"

He hadn't taken too kindly to my snarl. "Bitter. I have always been bitter towards Hermione. I loved her. I love her still. But she haunted me all my childhood. I was always in her shadow. And now that she's dead, I'll STILL be in her shadow. Wouldn't you be bitter?"

He had nodded. "I'm sorry, child. With her being gone, you no longer have the opportunity to shine over her. She's not there to compete against." He had sighed, and continued, "I should have warned her. I suspected it would happen. I should have stopped him..."

I had turned to him, slowly. "Tell me. One thing. Who killed her?"

Authoress notes: Sad, yes. I'm waiting for the "YOU KILLED OFF HERMIONE!!!!!!!!!" fans. It was necessary... I'm sorta basing the end off of "Means to an End" but not really... just with the whole, "He loved her, she loved him, he killed her because she was in the way of his power" aspect. If you have NO clue what I speak of... well... ^_^! Either read "Means to an End" or stick with the story... Heh heh heh...

CHAPTER ONE: And In the Meantime...

That was six years ago. I'm now older... Not as naive... A spy for an American order against Voldemort. Hell, I'm legal under AMERICAN terms. I hit my 21st two months ago, in February. I had gotten pretty pissed that night, but that's against the point. 

The organization. We're like an Order of the Phoenix except we get paid and have... vengeance. You know... one of those teams that get funded by the government, but silently. That way, when supporters of the dark side go to attack, our ministry plays stupid ("Mysterious galleons disappearing to the snipers? Say what?") and the blame goes to the Company-That-Cannot-Be-Found. Like... an undercover assassinations guild full of spies. 

Actually, that's pretty accurate now that I think about it... 

As soon as I had graduated from Salem's, La Fayette had accepted me. Two years in their potions department led to my masters in potions. What can I say? It's like baking, but with arsenic. 

I got involved with the Order of Hecate almost immediately having graduated from La Fayette. I had been cornered in an alley outside a small pub by one of the lead assas- spies?. Byron White was his name and... well, I guess I can admit I wasn't running all -too- fast away from the guy. He was _quite_ a looker. Not to be confused with hooker, although... ahem... He was an easy lay if you had a model figure. 

His proposition had been appealing. "To leave your sister's shadow. To kill her killer. Vengeance. Show them you're more than she ever was, and that you'll stop at nothing and won't allow anything to get in your path. Join us." I couldn't refuse, and this was where my life changed.

I had to drop all communications. My parents, my friends, everybody. I couldn't even keep my name. 'Antigone Granger' was down the drain. That's how in _depth_ we were. And how pissed we made our foes. Anybody who knew us was an obvious target. That's one difference between the Order of Hecate and the Order of the Phoenix. The relatives of the Phoenix were a constant target. Their children, their family, even their friends and acquaintances. We didn't have those. We had _co-workers._

So, I was Delaney Dimenticato. Roughly translated, it's 'Forgotten enemy's child.' I had spent THAT week on "Babynames.com," searching for something meaningful. 

I was snapped out of my reverie at my desk by a folder slamming down. I looked up sweetly at Byron, who seemed to be in a rather lousy mood. "Who walked out on you this morning?" I questioned. 

He snarled back at me. "Kindly keep your nose out of things it doesn't belong in, Lady Pry," was his all too quaint reply. Scottish accent AND a gentleman. What more could I ask for?

My grinned reply was all I needed to show my smugness at getting under his skin. "Woot. Another assignment. Who am I killing off this time?" I wanted to know. He shook his head back at me.

"Sbagliato sold a couple of us off to the Phoenix. I shudder to think at the price she was asking for. Anyway, about four of us are off to number 12 Grim-something-or-other and get to play spy for as long as our services are required," he explained.

My button nose wrinkled at this. "Is she aware that these people may recognize me?" I wanted to know. He raised his finely-shaped eyebrows at me.

"You saying you haven't changed a bit since you were... what? Fifteen?" he wanted to know. He got a dead-pan look as a reply.

"Clearly, somebody ELSE in this world underestimates Albus Dumbledore. Hecate members have crossed paths with him all too often to STILL follow _this_ folly. He's not dumb and he's extremely thorough. He _does_ know about our... revised documentations of living," I replied, crossing my legs and placing them up on a desk. Byron shrugged.

"A little hair-dye and some contacts to cover up your beautifully blue eyes ought to work. You're going, whether you like it or not. If I'm getting dragged to England, you are too," Byron chuckled, stepping out of the office. My one-fingered gesture was all I needed to explain how I was thinking. 

----------------------

"What were you thinking, Albus? These people... they cannot even be considered as such! They're little more than assassins!" an angered Severus Snape screeched out across the tiny kitchen of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Albus's eyes twinkled dangerously. 

"I know what I'm doing, Severus. We needed help that could be considered... a bit more daring and educated for the situations they are going to be placed in. I would hardly send Molly to chat with rogue vampires, but our accompanists do so quite often," Dumbledore quietly argued.

"In other words, he's not willing to send you guys off to a Murder Mission, but we're used to them," a cold voice called from the doorway. I had to give it to Corbin on entrances. She was quite amazing at getting a spotlight.

"Don't be so melodramatic, Corbin. They could hardly considered 'Murder Missions.' I mean, it's not like we're the ones being killed off. And it's not like we kill those we... come in contact with. We just get the more disagreeable tenants and aren't _afraid_, so to say, to boink them to another plane of existence," I added, fingering my newly blackened hair. I had nearly -CRIED- when losing the blonde locks. 

"_Who's_ being melodramatic? It's obvious their opinion isn't too high of us as it is, Delaney," Byron snorted. I shrugged.

"Their loss, not mine. Not really caring. Wanting to get this mission over with and order a pizza," I replied. 

Donovan, the last member sent to the Phoenix (and ALSO rather good looking), smirked sardonically. "They never mentioned insanity being part of the deal, did they?" he asked in the remarkably quiet voice he had. It's one of those voices that RINGS out across others, yet is considered soft. 

"I'm quite used to insanity. I have a cousin sitting in St. Mungos in a straight-jacket this very moment," Albus informed us evenly, but his gaze resting on me. It was hard not to miss the surprised look on his face and I snarled at Byron. So much for 'hair dye and contacts.' 

"Do you really? One of my friends did a thesis paper on insanity wards of Western Europe a couple years back. You'd be surprised at what you'd find in them..." Byron trailed off. 

I smirked. "He's talking about the nurses," was my added comment. 

He glared at me. "If you're insinuating a war between the two of us, it can be arranged, Dimenticato." 

I rolled my eyes. "More than you can chew there, buddy. Who'd contact said vampires without me around?" I wondered. The wizarding world was not fond of the undead, but several years in New Orleans had helped somewhat with my fear of them. When you got past the fangs and the whole blood-thing, they were quite delectable. 

"We wouldn't. Not even Voldemort bothers with the Vampyric-cults. Their opinions of 'right' and 'wrong' border in the same shade and they do as they please. It's near impossible to convince them to a side and are easily swayed by temptation. Nearly indestructible, immortal, and dreadfully strong. You're stupid to bother with their kind," Corbin stated. 

I do believe my sardonic smirk placed my name on the Potions Master's hit-list. Many found it unnerving, even co-workers, and could easily lead to misleading thoughts on where my loyalty lay. My need for carnage and chaos towards my sister's killer, however, was too great to even consider becoming a turncoat. "That's very prejudiced. It's like saying werewolves are horrid, stupid creatures who love killing. And I know that to be very untrue. Didn't you have a werewolf teacher under you at one point, Albus?" I asked the Headmaster of Hogwarts. 

He nodded. "I still do. Remus has been a great help to our Order and is one of my most trusted acquaintances," he added. 

I raised my eyebrows. "Isn't he related to Romulus?" I wanted to know, stating a close friend of mine. Romulus Lupin had been one of the very few I could not part my friendship with, although against Hecate's orders. He, unlike me and very much like the vampires, was easily swayable to which side he chose, but was a given help to said side. For a while now he had been assisting me with what I wanted, and was the main reason for my 'deadliness.' Places where I would go noticed, he would not. Hell, the man had a well-known name in Knockturn Alley and equally known through the European Ministry as a 'provincial menace to society.' The animosity between him and his brother was quite unlimited, though. Their meetings, few and far between, would always end with one or the other (and sometimes both) unconscious. 

Dumbledore nodded. "Sadly, though, I could not trust Romulus as I do this brother. He is easily tempted by the 'next-highest-offer' within politics," was the dry statement. Severus snorted at the overly modest description, and Corbin (our mission leader) was snapped into her manners. 

"Allow me to introduce our team. Byron White, Donovan Fidèle, Delaney Dimenticato, and I'm Corbin Oublié. We all have separate specialties in different fields," she paused for a moment to recollect. "Byron's our dark arts specialist. Bloody brilliant at dark curses and hexes, and could probably challenge Malfoy Senior in a well-met duel with completely illegal curses. Donovan's our undercover worker. Wonderfully sneaky, knows Voldemort's inner circle like the back of his hand. I'm initial intelligence. It's my job to work out plans and techniques before sending yonder off. If any of them die, it's my head that gets taken as well. And then we have Delaney. Foreign specialist and resident potions mistress. She graduated from La Fayette when she was 19 and has been part of the order for three years," Corbin introduced. 

I grinned wickedly, it being a specialty of mine. 'Foreign specialist' was a broad term. "I'm not a foreign specialist. I'm the abnormal-diplomat. They send my rear to the More-Dangerous-Than-Human beasts and I'm to deal with them. And before you think of sending me to the giants, I'll tell you 'I quit' for that mission. They're one of the few monstrosities I refuse to deal with. Trolls being another," I thought out loud. 

"Then it's a good thing we did not intend on sending peace to either. We have attempted visiting the giants. It resulted in pain for us and bribery for McNair. As for the trolls... We wish to have beings that will assist to our aid, not add to our troubles," Snape spat. It had caught him quite off guard to hear another potions master to be within the vicinity, and added to his extreme dislike of me. 

"Okay, Spoc, where _do_ you intend to send me?" I queried. 

I also immediately regretted asking, for the smiles I received were most evil, and I seemed to be the only one not in on their joke. It would be a LONG employment. 

So... chapter one over. It's a bit jumbled, and not the best written, and Anni may seem like a Mary-Sue, but I'm attempting for it not to be as such. Really, I am! 

Stay tuned for chapter two, where our heroine despairs at being sent to sexy yet immortal and EVIL creatures! 


	2. 2 Unjust Recognition

Disclaimer: Owning nothing. Again. Sadly. Anybody got a Tom Felton I could rent? ALSO! I know I write extravagantly. Like, instead of writing "Tom hit the ball," I would write, "The ball was hit by Tom." It's because I'm writing for Anni/Delaney. If you haven't noticed yet, I'm trying to create an extremely melodramatic character, a prima dona of the sorts... I'm having fun, too!

~Kim, the Authoress Formerly Known as Achicagoil

Melodrama at It's Finest

rated: PG-13

Chapter Two: Unjust Recognition

So, in asking for a list of my "Etre Monstres," I succumbed to a lengthy list of all the intelligent beasts I had ever heard of. When finished making this unfair (and iniquitous!) list, I turned to Snape, my eyes narrowed greatly. "You finished listing all the beasts from 'Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them'? Or shall I ready a new quill for you?" I questioned.

"I named all the intelligent creatures. We save talking to the flobber worms and such on for our games keeper. He can at least stay out of trouble that way, as he openly overlooks the 'boring' creatures as pets," was his snarky reply. 

Next to me, Byron growled, the sound barely omitting from his throat it was so low. Dumbledore took his cue to cut into the two. "Children, kindly wait to murder each other until Voldemort is dead. Until then, both of you will be greatly needed in the assistance of his downfall. Childhood rivalries are to be forgotten until then," Dumbledore insisted.

Donovan raised one of his _gorgeous_ eyebrows at the aspect of the two having known each other. "You were acquainted?" he asked in that wonderfully low Bulgarian accent of his. 

Byron glared at Snape. "Haven't you ever wondered why Sbagliato always sent me off to American cults and Corbin to the British ones?" he wondered. "Because I could easily be recognized in this country, as could Corbin in the great US of A."

Donovan shook his head. "I've only ever noticed that Delaney gets sent to neither place," was his dark remark. 

Wrinkling my nose at the mention of my whereabouts, I promptly changed the topic. "So, when do I get booted to such-n-so cults and when will the search parties be sent out to look for my body?" I wondered jokingly.

This time, the growl I heard came not from Byron, but behind me in the doorway. I swiveled around to be greeted by coal-black hair (Ooh! It was so wonderfully black it shone blue!) and overly-bright green eyes boring into my head. "If you leave with the intention of dying, I won't allow you to go. I'll do all in my power to keep you in this sodding house and chained up," boy-wonder Harry Potter stated in a deep, soft, and commanding voice. "I promised myself that I wouldn't let you get killed. Not after Hermione's death."

If my features darkened, I knew so by the backing-up of my colleagues. I wasn't to be tried-with when angered, and the subject of Hermione (I love her, I admit it, but I resent her just as greatly for having been perfect) surely brought along the change in my usually amiable attitude. "I do what I want with my life. I won't be weighed down by Mia's death or by her vengeful friends. I've gotten along far enough that I get thrown into the heart of battle. And I won't stop now. You _are_ to understand that, Boy-Who-Lived," I spat. 

"And I won't let you get killed, Anni," was his just reply. My shock, although masked, was more at being called by my real name than being recognized after... three? years. The potions master was just as surprised as I was, but he was also able to mask any and all emotions other than disgust. 

"Are you stupid, you ignorant fool?" Corbin spat, pulling him into the room and slamming the door. "Are you trying to kill off her remaining family and all her former friends? Why do you suppose Hecate members are required to drop former lives and names when joining the Order?" she wanted to know.

"By using names, we put ourselves, our co-workers, even our families and friends, to risk. Upon joining the order, we merely 'disappear' from all the world but the one we live in until we retire and live in silence for the rest of our lives," Donovan recited through a monotonous voice. The Idiot Who Lived wasn't the first we had explained this to. 

Prompt to this explanation, I turned on my heels to the door Harry had just come out of. "I'm off to the Vampyre cults. If I'm not back in a week, send inquiries, but don't send people. If I'm not back in two weeks, contact Sbagliato to send Darcie and Desdemona to Bulgaria. They know where the cults are, they know how to deal with the them, and they're better off with the vampires that the lot here," I gestured, nodding to Harry and Byron, whose extreme dislike for vampires was known. 

Before even setting a foot past the doorframe, though, I ran into a solid (and well-built! w00t!) chest. Looking up (by a good FOOT or two; it bites being five foot two), I suppressed a groan. Maroon t-shirt led to a freckly neck, a chiseled face, and deep, RED hair. "Who're you?" Ron Weasley asked curiously. 

Karma. 

God DAMN you, karma. 

------------ 

Isn't there some sort of law that goes, "Innocent until proven guilty?" 

And is it just me, or is that a purely American concept? 

Here I was, one of the top Hecate officials, being thoroughly cut, chewed, and SWALLOWED by these... _aurors_. 

Don't get me wrong. Some aurors are absolutely dangerous. You wouldn't find ANY Hecate member in their right mind going after Mad-Eye Moody. He was as big of a legend in the US as he was in the UK. 

But most aurors? 

Hogwarts graduates who pulled an "O" in Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.Ls and went on to pass their N.E.W.Ts. Just because you have book-smarts doesn't mean you're cut out to be a savior. I mean, look at Hermione. 

Back on topic! Aurors were more of a menace for my crew than a help. They, more than often, stuck their noses where certain snouts didn't belong. Like mysterious figures suddenly appearing in Bulgaria, questioning about the whereabouts of the Vampyre cults. Just because our ministry quietly funded us didn't mean EVERYBODY in the ministry business knew and approved of our order. The British ministry didn't even know about us, much to our founder's delight. Sadly, not even I knew who the person was. Sbagliato was ordered to follow the orders given by him. Or her. 

Extraordinary Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley might have been in fighting against the dark arts, but my opinion, as stated above, is not too high of aurors. _Too damn nosey!_ So, in the lecture I was getting... Let's just say it was rubbing me the wrong direction. 

Between a pause for him to catch his breath, I smartly asked Ron, "Are you done lecturing me now? I have work to do?" 

His already red face turned even redder. "Have you not been paying attention, you great prat? I'm not letting you leave this damn house!" he screamed, panting out of rage. 

My eyes narrowed. "You and what army?" 

Have I mentioned my extreme hate for karma? 

---------------

Anti-apparation hexes aren't fun. My Hecate friends weren't helping. What help Corbin and Byron offered was turned down with vehemence by the Weasley clan. Almost immediately replying with "You and what army," several other Weasleys appeared. The twins and the eldest (Bob? Umm... Bert? Something like that) appeared out of thin air, having heard the dulcet tones of their youngest brother.

The closer of the twins poked my anchored shoulder and I growled deeply at him, much to his amusement. "She's got spunk," he suggested.

"She'll get MORE than that when you damn well let her free," I snarled, British accent giving way to the southern-America one that nine years of schooling in the south-east US bestowed upon me. Did I mention I was tied to a kitchen chair and forced to amuse myself by the twins' antics? They'd innocently sent a rocket off in the general direction of the potions master. Sadly, an incantation that hurt even MY ears sent it to an early demise. One I wouldn't wish to my enemies.

... Well... I had _new_ enemies now. Ones that tied their prisoners to chairs and forced them to **not** complete their work because of past relations. 

I resorted to dirty measures.

"Let me go."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "No."

"Let me go."

This time, Harry replied. "Hardly."

"Let me go." 

Brad (that's not it!) graced us with his pleasant voice (he's hot. He's allowed to have a pleasant voice...). "Sorry, Poppet. No can do."

"Let me go."

I think one of the twins was catching on. He started snickering. 

"Letmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmego-" DEEP breath, "Letmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmegoletmego... I can continue," I offered. 

Snape pulled out his wand. "Silencio." 

I was offended, and glared darkly at him. Apparently, the man had never been to an American wizarding university. Or bothered to learn about their teaching methods. Corbin, Byron, and Donovan, on the other hand, did. And they all grinned wickedly. 

"That won't stop her, mate," Byron muttered.

Closing my eyes, I starting chanting, though with the spell on me, none of my captors could hear. 

Before long, a silent explosion filled the room, knocking things from their places on shelves and off the wall. A great screaming in the hallway was heard, and those in the kitchen looked greatly surprised. Even Byron, who had taught me the incantation to begin with.

I stood up shakily from the chair and brushed my hands off on my robe. "You going to throw anything else unexpected at me, or are you going to let me go?" I croaked. Wandless magic took more effort to perform than magic through a wand. With a wand, the ability to perform spells is taken out of its magical core and put into form of what certain incantations ordered it to. Wandless magic, however, had no phoenix-feather core or dragon heart string, or... any other magical beast memorabilia to perform the spells for you. It took That-Special-Energy out of your body. Using such a dark incantation wasn't highly advisable, either. The harder the spell, the more energy drained from your body.

Dumbledore looked severely at me. He had quietly observed all happenings with amusement until my incantation. "Such dark spells are not meant to be used without a wand, Miss Dimenticato. You are in no form to go anywhere at the moment. You are having trouble standing as it is."

Damn observational skills as much as karma. Byron noted my swaying condition and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, forcing me to lean against him. 

"Bad girl, Deli. I'm going to stop teaching you spells if you continue to take advantage of them," he muttered into my ear. I swatted him sloppily with a hand.

"Save it for a secretary, Byron," I snorted, pushing away from him. 

I turned to my audience, walking backwards out of the door. "You see? Perfectly capable of taking care of my-" I stumbled on my feet, knees buckling underneath me, to be caught by yet another pair of wonderfully strong arms. Maybe I'd enjoy this place much more than I thought, with all the strong and single men about. 

"You weren't planning on going anywhere, Cherie, were you?" the person asked. I angled my head up (Again, I'm short) to see another mop of red hair. I groaned. 

"I suppose not, not with all you Weasleys running about. How many more of you do I have to run into until I'm free to do what I want?" I whined. Secretly, I was enjoying the arms around me. So I could easily fall for a strong and handsome guy. Most girls do, you know? 

He grinned at me, showing off his wonderfully white teeth. "You're missing a brother, a sister, and two parental units. Until then, you're free, darling." He looked up from my eyes. "Where do you want me to put this one?" 

I snarled at him, clawing at his arms. "Lemme go," I slurred, jabbing him with my right index finger. Poking people. Such a fun habit. Poke, poke, poke, JAB, pokepokepokepokepo- "If you don't let me go, I'll bite you." 

He grinned snarkily at me. "Great try, Poppet, but no cigar," he replied, lifting me off my feet (WHEEE!!!!) and cradling me in his arms. 

"Careful, mate. She does bite," Byron warned. 

"And I don't smoke. Screw the cigar," I muttered under my breath, reveling in my new position. Let it be known that although I try to avoid redheads at all costs (bad experiences with a few red-haired vampires. Do yourself a favor and don't ask), that when held by a redhead with an obvious six-pack (and boy, could I feel it, all pressed up to him and such), I'd sit back and enjoy the ride. 

"Please be as so kind as to take Ms. Granger into one of the clean spare rooms, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore stated evenly. That's another thing I learned through my studies with the Hecate order. In life, you eventually run across one of those People whose orders are listened to (not to be mistaken with the type of People whose orders aren't listened to. That explains the Great Battle of Belanonadanona, a famous city in France. Or, it would have been a great battle **and** a famous city, had the Belanonadanonian Army's leading official been listened to). Dumbledore was one of those people. Kept a level head and such, I suppose. So, I wasn't surprised to find the Weasley-male pushing his way out of the kitchen and up a flight of stairs. 

"Wake me at the next chance of escape," I muttered into his chest, closing my drooping eyes. He chuckled. 

"I would, Love, but I'm afraid of Mum's reaction to finding out I let you escape. Feel assured one of us will be watching for your well-being. And Snape's got your wand." 

My eyes snapped open at that. "How the hell did he get THAT?" I questioned, trying to sit up. I was rewarded by getting pressed up closer to his chest. 

"Stop squirming, or I'll accidentally drop you. Wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?" he asked with a chuckle. I was beaming in my head; his chest rumbled when he chuckled. Fangirl, what? He continued. "Snape doesn't have to explain himself. Or reveal his little secrets. It's like... he's got permission to hex you if you even ask about them. Believe me, because we've tried. I've always wanted to know how he gets his robes to billow the way they do. And then there's a fear factor. Most of us are too afraid to ask of his secrets. Spent too many years having detention with him on Wednesday nights, scrubbing cauldrons with toothbrushes and such." 

By this time, we had gone up two flights of stairs and he had stopped outside of a room. I snuggled back down in his arms and sighed. "Reminds me of Romulus. Except that I'd willingly spend time with Rommy. He's very random. You never know what you'll get out of one of his meetings, or whenever he'll show up. I like it when life's a continuous _**PLEASANT**_ surprise." I don't know -how- I could have placed ANY more emphasis on "pleasant". 

The Weasley laughed as he placed me down on a bed. "And when the surprises aren't too pleasant?" he wanted to know. 

I turned to my side, digging my head down into the pillow provided for me. "Then I get testy. And nobody likes it when I'm testy. Ask Byron." 

It's sad when you're asleep before you can hear a sarcastic reply. But that's me. 

AN: Chapter two etait finir. *grins* I hope Anni didn't come across as "falling in love with a Weasley". Because she ISN'T. She's a fangirl. One of the people who'll fall for a chiseled face and a pair of abs. I have _plans_ for who she falls in love with. *grins* But I'm sure we can all guess -who-, by how I ended up pairing this fic *Sighs* 

-Achi-chan 

PS: Wow... I never intended on going on with this story. Um... if I get good reviews, I might continue? hinthintnudgenudgeWHAPgiggle 


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